


Harry is fine, really. Except he's not.

by Seer_of_Void



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, How Do I Tag, Literally just all the hp characters, More ships to be added, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seer_of_Void/pseuds/Seer_of_Void
Summary: All was not well. Harry knew his friends were worried about him, or at least, Hermione was worried about him. After the war was done, after Voldemort was killed, Harry had thought he could have a normal life. He had taken Kingsley’s offer and had entered Auror training with Ron, he lived Grimmauld Place (which was yet to be completely renovated) with his two best friends, and he and Ginny were doing well. He should have been happy, right?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters, all rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am merely fixing her mistakes. Also please be kind this fic has been a work in progress since 2017 and I'm just now getting around to posting it.

All was not well. Harry knew his friends were worried about him, or at least, Hermione was worried about him. After the war was done, after Voldemort was killed, Harry had thought he could have a normal life. He had taken Kingsley’s offer and had entered Auror training with Ron, he lived Grimmauld Place (which was yet to be completely renovated) with his two best friends, and he and Ginny were doing well. He should have been happy, right?

But no, Harry was still having nightmares months after the war ended, or he was having nightmares when he could sleep at all. Not even two weeks into Auror training Harry knew that he couldn’t do it, he kept having flashbacks to the war, to walking into the Forbidden Forest to his death, to all his family dying right before his eyes. Kingsley, Hermione and Ron understood, the rest of the Wizarding World didn’t, Ginny didn’t. She tried but…

There were tears when they broke up, Ginny’s tears. Harry was numb to the break up, like he had been numb to everything since the war. “I’m sorry Harry…” She had already started to cry and she hadn’t even gotten the words out, “I want to be there for you but I can’t. You’re not the same anymore!”

“I know and I want to be better but I can’t. Gin, I don’t know how.” Harry didn’t want to see her cry, he hated seeing anyone cry especially if it was because of him, “Gin, I know what you’re trying to say and it’s fine. I want you to be happy, one of us has to be, right?” She had cried harder at that, hugged him tightly, and had returned to the Burrow.

Ron was furious at Ginny when he heard, “I can’t believe she would do that to you mate! After everything you’ve gone through with the war?”

Hermione was crying and looked like she had wanted to hug Harry, “Oh Harry… I’m so sorry I knew how you felt about her.”

Harry flinched, he didn’t want his friends to worry about him any more than they already were, “No, that’s- that’s not what happened. Ginny was upset, I’m the one who actually said the words that broke us up.” He shrugged, “It was for the best, we weren’t… happy anymore.” That was a lie, being with Ginny had been the only thing that made Harry feel anything anymore. She made him happier than he had been in a long time. “Look, I’ll be fine. I’ll go back to Hogwarts with you Hermione, we’ll finish up our seventh year and I’ll find a job somewhere, that’s not an Auror.”

That seemed to cheer his friends up a bit more and Hermione immediately started telling Harry what he had to do in order to get ready for his return to Hogwarts. “You’ll have to owl Headmistress McGonagall, she’ll be so glad to see you Harry! And we’ll have to go to Diagon to get your books… and have you thought about getting a new owl? Or maybe not an owl-” She continued on her rant, even when Ron turned to Harry and drew his attention away from her.

“Blimey Harry, it’s weird enough not going through training with you… Now I’ll have to be alone with Kreacher too?” The ginger smiled; Kreacher, despite doing his job wonderfully and helping to redo the entirety of Grimmauld Place, was still a miserable house elf. Although he also refused all of Harry’s efforts of being set free, the three friends just assumed that the grouchier Kreacher was, the more he cared.

“Sorry Ron, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t go back to Hogwarts. I can’t just sit around here all the time.” He shrugged half-heartedly, both Ron and Hermione knew that Harry spent more days in his room than not.

Ron sighed, “I know mate, I’ll just miss you both alright?” The ginger smiled at his best friend and girlfriend.

“We’ll miss you too, Ron.” Hermione smiled and leaned in to give her boyfriend a kiss. Harry looked away, it wasn’t that he was upset that his friends had gotten together, Merlin knew it was a long time coming, it was just that being there when they were being more intimate made Harry feel uncomfortable. Intimacy in itself made Harry uncomfortable actually, growing up he had never really been touched before, unless you count Vernon Dursley’s hard handed hits.

Harry coughed softly, drawing his friends’ attention back to the conversation, “I’m sorry ‘Mione… but I don’t think I can make it to Diagon Alley with you.”

Hermione nodded sympathetically ever since the end of the war, Diagon Alley, or any wizarding place, made Harry extremely anxious. If he had thought their hero-worship was bad before…

“It’s alright! I’ll take Ron with me, we’ll make a date out of it.” She smiled a toothy grin, effectively shutting down any complaints that were going to come out of the ginger.

⚡

Harry woke up after Ron and Hermione had already left for Diagon Alley. He stumbled downstairs, still half asleep and pulling jeans up over his legs at the same time. On his way to the kitchen he almost tripped over Kreacher who was busy dusting the bookshelves in the sitting room.

“Kreacher has made Master Harry breakfast.” The old house elf mumbled and shuffled around the room.

“Thank you Kreacher.” Harry smiled, carefully stepped around Kreacher and continued on his way to the kitchen.

“Gifts were left for Master Harry,” Kreacher said, “Kreacher put them on the table, checked gifts for spells too.”

Harry froze, why were there gifts for him? “Kreacher, what day is it?” His eyes landed on the kitchen table, at least fifteen gifts lay on it, piled precariously upon each other.

“Master Harry’s birthday. Mistress Hermione is being planning something for evening, she is. Kreacher been told to say nothing on the matter by Master Ron.” He was shocked, how was it already his birthday? “Kreacher, who are all these from?” He approached the pile cautiously.

“Friends and family of Master Harry.” Kreacher turned and continued his chores, as if he were dismissing Harry.

Harry caught a glimpse of the names on the tags from his viewpoint he could read Charlie’s name along with Molly and Arthur’s, George’s, Hagrid’s, he even saw Bill and Fleur's along with Andromeda’s neat scrawl which spelled out Teddy’s name. Harry couldn’t help but smile, a real smile for the first time in what felt like weeks. After the first eleven years of his life, Harry still had a hard time believing that people really did love him. The smell of coffee and bacon forced Harry to ignore the gifts, however he did grab the envelope that had Dean Thomas’ name scrawled across the tag.

As he ate his breakfast, Harry looked over the piece of parchment in his hand. It had taken a long while for Dean to finalize everything that Harry had envisioned, but it was finally finished. After the war Harry had decided he wanted to honor his family, so he enlisted Dean’s artistic help to draft an intricate tattoo. When Dean had asked what Harry wanted, all Harry said was that he wanted to honor his family. Dean had smiled, and went on to ask him about Remus, Sirius, and his parents.

The end result was better than he could have ever imagined. It would start on his right shoulder: an enchanted moon that would match the phases as the real one as a memory to Remus would take up the majority of his upper arm, below that would be enchanted pawprints that would walk around his arm that would shift from paw prints to footprints at random intervals, on the inside of his forearm would be a buck that would be a mirror image of his own patronus for his father, beside that would be his mother’s doe patronus, these two would be enchanted to twirl and run around the circumference of his forearm. Harry knew he would continue to add onto the tattoo as the years went on, but this was a good start. So many people had died so he could defeat Voldemort, and he wanted to honor them.

A knock on the window pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a beautiful, if somewhat frightening, eagle owl perched outside the kitchen window. The owl had a package tied to its leg and seemed to be giving Harry a rather condescending glare. Harry looked at the owl in trepidation, he didn’t recognize it and his house was still under the Fidelius Charm.

“Kreacher, can you please check that owl?” Harry cringed when the old house elf popped into the kitchen, he always felt bad for having to ask Kreacher to do something. Harry had grown up having to do almost everything by himself in Private Drive, old habits die hard.

“Of course Master Harry, Kreacher will be checking and making sure the gift is safety for Master to open.” Kreacher hobbled over to the window, which opened with a snap of his fingers, and retrieved the slim package from the leg of the owl.

While Kreacher did different revealing charms and anti-potion spells on the package, Harry finished the breakfast that had been prepared for him and thought of his soon-to-be tattoo. “The gift is being from Malfoy Manor.” Kreacher’s croaking voice brought Harry back to the present.

Harry froze, “What do you mean? There must be some mistake Kreacher.”

The old house-elf shook his wrinkly head, “Kreacher be making no mistakes Master Harry, the gift is being from Malfoy Manor and is being perfectly safe for Master Harry.” With shaking hands (why was he shaking so much?) Harry took the package from Kreacher. A small card was attached to the top, in looping writing it said:

_Mr. Potter,_

_I wish to thank you for what you have done for my son and I. We had not dared dream that we would be free after the war and with your kind words, you let us have the freedom we didn’t know we would have. As a thank-you, I wish to send my regards on your birthday, and a small token of my gratitude. My son found it while cleaning out the library and we both agreed that it would be best to give it to its rightful owner. I know this does not come close to paying you back for what you have done, but it would be my honor if you would accept this gift._

_Sincerely, Narcissa Malfoy._

Harry’s breath was coming out in small pants by the time he finished the short letter. In a flash he was brought back to the trials that had taken place after the war. He had spoken on both Narcissa’s and Draco’s behalf and saved them from being sentenced to Azkaban along with the rest of the Death Eaters. Harry told the story about Draco on the Astronomy Tower, how he was a scared kid that was doing what he had to do to survive, how he was doing what he had to do to save his family, just like Harry. Harry told everyone how he knew that Draco recognized him at the Manor that day. He told everyone how Narcissa Malfoy lied to Voldemort and allowed Harry to finally finish the war. With his testimony, Harry had helped save the two Malfoy’s from rotting away in Azkaban.

Harry took the package from Kreacher with shaking hands, and slowly peeled away the light green wrapping paper to reveal a black leather bound book. He held the book with trembling fingers and looked at the design embossed on the binding, _‘de figulus luti’_ was written in gold the part of Harry’s brain that had started to understand the meaning of the latin spells figured out that the flowing writing meant “potter about”.

The old binding cracked slightly when Harry opened it but he paid it no mind, because on the first page was the name “Linfred of Stinchcombe (the potterer)”. He was confused, why would Malfoy send him such an odd book?

Harry continued to leaf through the book, on each page was a new name, each with the last name Potter, each with a small note to which how they were related to Linfred of Stinchcombe and what they had done during their lives. Apparently, Linfred has six sons, five of which had died young. Hardwin Potter was the lone survivor of them, and ended up marrying Iolanthe Peverell. Hardwin and Iolanthe had three daughters and one son, when the three daughters passed away, the son was the only one who grew old enough to have his own children. The trend went on for every generation after that, parents would have several children but only one would live long enough to sire children. Harry didn’t notice he was crying until he saw teardrops on the page that showed his grandfather, Fleamont Potter. He saw his own name when he reached the last page, it was written in the same curling handwriting as all the others. This book… This book showed his entire family history, something Harry had never known, had never had a chance to know. He had not even realized that such a book existed.

He slid to the floor, his back against the kitchen cupboards and he hugged the book to his chest like a lifeline. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, or how many times he flipped through the book, but he came back to himself when he heard Hermione’s soft gasp from the kitchen door.

“Harry, what are you doing? You’re not even properly dressed!” Harry looked up at his friends, Hermione’s dark hair seemed even more wild as she bustled about the kitchen to sift through his gifts and organize them in neat piles.

“Hey mate, what’s wrong?” Ron’s kind brown eyes tracked over Harry’s face, finally noticing his puffy red eyes and dried tears.

“Um… I got a gift… From Malfoy and his mum.” Harry sniffled and rubbed tiredly at his eyes, “It, uh, it’s a book.”

“Why would Malfoy give you a present?” Hermione peered down at Harry, trying to get a look at the gift.

“I guess it was in their library or something…” He shrugged and clutched the book tighter, it felt too private to share, even with his best friends, “Anyway, it-” he looked down at the cover and smiled softly, “It has my family in it.”

Ron and Hermione shared a look, “Er… What do you mean, mate?” Ron was the first one to speak.

“I mean that the entire Potter line is written in these pages. I guess since technically, the Potter’s are purebloods, or were, they have a book of family history.” Harry showed his friends the book, “My family motto is literally ‘potter about’.”

Hermione looked shocked, “That’s amazing Harry!”

“I didn’t know the bloody git could be so considerate.” Ron mumbled, referring to the fact that Malfoy had given him the book.

Harry nodded, still thumbing through the pages, “Did you know that my grandfather, Fleamont Potter, was the one who invented Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion? And my great-grandfather, Henry, he was a member of the Wizengamot.” Harry was rambling, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. For years, Harry had wondered what his paternal family was like, and now he knew. He had every single one of them right in his hands, “And the first Potter ever, Linfred of Stinchcombe was the inventor of the rudimentary versions of both Skele-gro and PepperUp Potion, every single one of my ancestors has done something worthwhile.” He smiled broadly and showed his best friends the last page of the book.

_Harry James Potter- The Boy Who Lived to Defeat the Dark Lord_

“I feel more connected to them now… It’s silly I know but-” Harry was cut off by the bushy hair of Hermione covering his face as she hugged him tightly.

“Harry, it’s not silly at all, that is amazing. I’m so happy for you. I haven’t seen you smile like this since- in a long time.” Hermione gave a small smile, her white teeth shone brightly against her dark skin.

“Yeah Harry, I’m glad you get to know your dad’s family.” Ron smiled broadly from where he was still standing near the entryway of the kitchen.

Once Hermione had finally released him out of her crushing grip Harry stood up and approached the table again. “How was Diagon? You guys didn’t get attacked by the press did you?” Despite Harry being the more famous of the three, Ron and Hermione were both constantly hounded by the Daily Prophet and other publications like it.

“It wasn’t so bad once ‘Mione told them all that she would sue each and every one of their publications for ‘frankly a blatant disregard for the privacy of war veterans and a complete neglect of the need for personal space.’” Ron looked at his girlfriend and Harry would practically see the hearts in his friend's eyes.

Hermione blushed prettily, “Well if I can barely get into Flourish and Blotts to get my school supplies then they’re not really respecting our personal lives very well are they? They expect us to dance for them like circus monkeys!”

“Please tell me you actually told them that.” Harry deadpanned as he imagined the look on Rita Skeeter’s face.

Hermione grinned, “I may have said something like it.” Harry laughed, a real laugh for the first time in what felt like months.

“Alright mate,” Ron smiled a toothy grin, “get up and get dressed, we’re going out.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “We are?” He looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione, they both looked smug, which was never a good thing.

“Yes Harry it’s your 18th birthday and you haven’t really left the house in weeks, so we are going out.” Hermione helped Harry up off the floor and ushered him out of the kitchen, “So get dressed, and put on something nice!”

Harry laughed softly as he went back upstairs and started looking through his closet. Ever since he finally moved away from the Dursley's, Harry had thrown out every piece of clothing he had been forced to wear from Dudley. With the weighty inheritance he had gotten from his parents Harry was able to completely redo his wardrobe, with the help of Hermione and Ginny of course. He looked down at the jeans he was currently wearing, they were ripped in several places and faded by bleach stains along the legs, so not what Hermione meant by “something nice”.

He pulled on a clean pair of dark blue jeans, they were snug, but according to Ginny they made his arse “look bloody amazing, really Harry”, with this he paired a dark green button up shirt that, apparently, made his eyes pop even more; it felt a bit baggy, which was okay but strange as it was till pretty new. For the final touch he pulled on Sirius’ old leather jacket, magically resized to fit Harry. With a quick look in the mirror, Harry dubbed himself dressed nicely enough for even Hermione’s standards, and went back downstairs to meet his friends.

When Harry reentered the kitchen he saw his friends peering at a scrap of parchment on the counter, he froze, he had forgotten about the tattoo in his excitement for the Potter Book. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his friends to know about the tattoo, it was that Harry had so few things in life that were truly his own, and he had wanted this tattoo to be his even if for just a little bit. “Er… guys?” Harry felt awkward just standing there as his friends looked at the tattoo that Harry wanted.

Hermione was the first to look up, and her eyes were slightly red, “Oh Harry… This is a wonderful idea, and it’s really beautiful.”

Harry shrugged, “I’m going to add more to it eventually, I want something for Tonks, and Fred and Cedric-” Harry was cut off by Ron rushing over to give him a bruising hug, his face was splotchy and tear streaked. “Er…” Harry stood awkwardly, Ron was never one for emotional outbursts, it was usually Hermione who did things like that.

Ron pulled away with an embarrassed smile on his face, “Sorry about that, I just think that George would love this, everyone would love this.” Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, “Thanks Ron, I really appreciate that.” Hermione cleared her throat, “Alright, let’s go we can’t keep everyone waiting.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning or this chapter:  
> PTSD flashbacks and nightmares

The pub was already crowded when Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated into the alley just outside. They had decided on a muggle place for Harry’s party, it was easier to hide from the press that way. They approached the table that looked to have Disillusionment charms on it, seated there was: Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, George and even Charlie were waiting for them.

“Happy birthday Harry!” Neville clapped him on the back.

“You too mate, did you get the thing I sent you?” Harry smiled at his friend, Neville had changed a lot last year, he had filled out and become a much more confident person.

“It was great! I don’t know how you found that Wiggentree but it even had some bowtruckles in it already.” 

Harry shrugged, “I talked to a couple people and they were able to get one for you, I’m glad you like it.” 

“Harry, you seem happy today.” Luna peered across the table at him, her blue eyes wide and searching, “Does it have anything to do with the gift that Draco Malfoy got you?”

If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Luna was a Seer, and this wasn’t the first time that Harry wondered if she actually was.

George looked up from his pint, shock written across his face, “Malfoy got you a gift? What’s the git want now?”

Harry smiled softly, remembering the book he had gotten. “The note from Narcissa said that it was as a thank you for helping them during their trials. It’s a book.” He took a sip of his pint, not really wanting to elaborate on the gift, thankfully the others gathered around the table and took the hint.

“Wow.” Seamus was the one who broke the silence around the table, taking his arm from its place around Dean’s shoulders to lean forward and lean his head on his hands, “Who knew the Malfoy’s could be decent folks.”

Harry frowned, “I don’t think it’s that they’re not decent, I think it’s more about the fact that they just… They didn’t know any better. Lucius was a very powerful person and he used that to get what he wanted, and I’m sure that that power stayed with him even when he was alone with his family. Without him being there, I’m sure that Narcissa and Malfoy are able to… spread their wings? I guess. Narcissa seems to be a lot like Andromeda, she doesn’t really believe all the pureblood propaganda, she was just being an obedient wife and Malfoy didn’t know any better.”

Luna looked at Harry thoughtfully, “You’ve changed Harry.”

Harry blushed and looked down at his pint. The war had changed him, it had changed everybody, and Harry was realizing that not everything was black and white like he had previously thought. 

“Well,” Dean smiled at the people around the table, “I think that this celebration could use a change of topic.” Dean’s smile widened and he took Seamus' hand, “Seamus and I are moving in together.”

Shouts of congratulations were exclaimed from those around the table, Ron even yelled that it was “about time”.

“Honestly Dean, sharing a dorm with you two was terrible. Disgustingly adorable, but terrible.” Ron smiled at the happy couple and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Mate, I am currently living with you and Hermione, don’t lecture anyone about being disgustingly adorable.” Harry smirked and the rest of the table laughed while Ron and Hermione blushed.

“So George, how’s business going?” Neville turned to the ginger. George had been throwing himself into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes ever since Fred had died, it was almost as if he was trying to make up for his missing twin’s sense of humour. 

George smiled softly and took a sip of his fire whisky, “It’s going, I’m thinking about expanding to Hogsmeade, enough students buy from me as is, I might as well make it easier.”

Ron cleared his throat and looked sheepish, “Speaking of… I’m quitting the Aurors to help out with the shop.”

Hermione was the first to speak up in the silence that followed Ron’s statement, “Thank God…” At this everyone looked at the bushy haired brunette, “What? Harry, Ron and I spent months hunting down horcruxes and running away from dark wizards. You expect me to be happy that Ron almost chose to do this again for a career?” She sniffed haughtily but smiled when Ron grinned and kissed her soundly, her brown skin flushed darker with a blush.

Harry smiled at his two best friends, at all of his friends that were gathered around him. It was hard to believe that they were finally free, there was no more fear of Voldemort, no more fear of sudden death. It was… nice. Boring, but nice. Harry had come to expect the predictability that had become his life over the past few months. He decided that he liked boring.

“So Harry,” Charlie’s voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts, “any idea on what you want to do after Hogwarts?” 

“Er… Not really?” He laughed softly, “Before Hogwarts I never really thought about my future and in Hogwarts I was thinking about becoming an Auror, but… I’m done fighting. Since day one of school I’ve had to fight and I just want some peace. Maybe I’ll travel the world? Maybe I’ll learn more about magical creatures? Hell, maybe I’ll come to the dragon reserve with you Charlie.” White teeth flashed from his dark complexion when he smiled at the second eldest Weasley, “Most likely I’ll just take a break from it all and try to see the world.”

Charlie nodded, lifting his pint in a salute to the raven haired teen, “Amen to that.” The others laughed and joined in, all of them clinking their glasses.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks and laughter. Hermione, Neville and Charlie, being the most responsible of the lot, stayed sober enough to Apparate people home. Luna seemed completely sober by the time she Apparated herself home, though Harry swore that she’d had more to drink than all of them put together. 

Once he was back in Grimmauld Place, Harry set a glass of water by his bedside table and promptly passed out once his head hit the pillow. 

_Red eyes glared at him from across the Great Hall, his friends and family lay dead at his feet. “There is nothing you can do now boy… Everyone who ever loved you is dead!” Voldemort’s cruel voice rang across the vast hall as Death Eaters closed in on them both, “There is no point in fighting… Give up.”_

_Give up._

_Give up._

_Give up._

_Harry looked around, none of his friends were here to help him. The Weasley's lay dead at his feet, Hermione’s lifeless body lay some feet away, Neville, Luna, Remus, Tonks… All of them were dead._

_Why should he fight anymore? Everyone he ever cared about was dead._

_Give up._

_Give up._

_Why did he still have to fight?_

_Give up._

_Give up._

_Wake up._

_“Harry, wake up.”_

“Wake up Harry!” Harry’s eyes shot open and his hand shot out to the intruder, magic crackling between his fingertips, “It’s just me Harry.” Hermione looked at the dark haired boy from the doorway, her hands up in surrender, “You were screaming in your sleep again… I thought you were getting better?”

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat; Hermione was okay, so was Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s. Everyone was okay. “I’m fine ‘Mione… Just a dream… It was just a dream.”

Hermione’s brows drew up in concern and she made her way over to Harry’s bed, “Oh Harry…” She drew the boy in her arms and hugged him tightly.

Harry choked back a sob and held his friend in his arms. She was alive, most of his family was still alive. Everything was okay. He couldn’t hold it back any longer, not with Hermione rubbing his back in soothing circles and telling him that everything was okay, that _they_ were okay. “It was just a dream…”

Harry cried. He cried for what felt like hours, all the while Hermione sat there and held him. He couldn’t stop the heart wrenching sobs that escaped his mouth, nor could he prevent the tears from soaking Hermione’s nightshirt. Sometime during this, Ron shuffled into the room and sat with his friends, he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and his best friend and offered the only kind of comfort he knew how.

Eventually, Harry finished crying, his friends lay his sniffling head back down on his pillow, and he slept. Hermione motioned for Ron to follow her out of the room, softly closing the door behind her, “I’m worried about him Ron.”

The ginger nodded, still in shock after seeing Harry, his tough-as-nails friend, break down into sobs after having a nightmare, “I don’t know what we should do ‘Mione… It’s not like he’s going to talk to us about what’s going on.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but there has to be something. Harry isn’t doing well… The rest of us are healing, slowly, but we are. I don’t think Harry is, I think he’s getting worse.” 

“‘Mione, Harry went through hell with the war… I don’t know what he had to do in the Forbidden Forest but whatever it was… it changed him. He won’t talk to us because he knows we’ll try to fix him and maybe there’s nothing to _fix_. Maybe Harry is just coping in a different way than the rest of us. Like how George is throwing himself into work, or how Mum's redecorating the whole Burrow by herself, or how Dad is at work more. We’re all dealing with what happened during the war in different ways. I’m sure Harry will be fine.”

“That’s just it Ron, everyone is coping. But Harry isn’t. What do you think Harry does when we leave the house?” Ron shrugged at this, “He doesn’t do anything. I’ve asked Kreacher, he’s either in his room with the door spelled shut or he just walks around the house. Maybe he’ll go out in the garden but those days are few and far between. Harry isn’t coping, he’s just… existing.”

“Hermione there’s nothing we can do about it tonight, if you’re still worried about it in the morning you can talk to him about going to a Mind Healer or something.” Ron all but dragged his girlfriend back into their room where they too, fell fast asleep.

⚡

His eyes were sore. That was what Harry first thought when he woke up the next morning, that and that his mouth felt like cotton. He opened one sore eye, only to have to shut it again because of the light shining through his window. His head was _pounding_. He waved his hand lazily and muttered the incantation that blew the curtains closed. He groped blindly in his bedside table for the hangover potion he kept there and downed it in one gulp.

Sitting up slowly, memories of the night before flooded Harry’s head and he winced. In his drunken state, he had forgotten to put a silencing spell on the door like he usually did. Harry had learned early after the war that the nightmares often made him rather… vocal. Ginny usually woke him up before they got too bad and held him until they passed, but after they broke up, Harry was on his own. He had taken to casting a silencing spell on the door so he wouldn’t wake up Hermione and Ron. Last night was the first night he had forgotten in months. 

Harry debated on whether or not he should go down into the kitchen and face the concerned stares of Hermione and Ron. His stomach rebelled at the thought of trying to force down food, not eating much as a child or much during the months in the woods had done bad things to his eating habits. 

With a wave of his hand, he spelled the door shut and made sure to cast proper silencing charms. A couple more hours of sleep wouldn’t kill him, it might even make Ron and Hermione rethink on whatever Harry knew they would try to talk to him about. With this thought in mind Harry rolled back over and pulled the blankets up over his head.

_He was flying, the air was warm and the sun was beating down on his back, and he was flying. He could hear the cheers of the crowd as they urged him on, his teammates zoomed passed him in blurs of red and gold. They would win the game, Harry knew. A flash of gold caught his eye, and he flew towards it, it flew up, up, up, up so the sun was beating down on his face and he had to squint to see the little Golden Snitch._

_The red and gold of his teammates merged into the red and gold of flames, the roar of the crowd became the roar of Fiendfyre, the comforting warmth of the sun became the unbearable heat of untamed fire, the openness of the Quidditch Pitch transformed into the closed quarters of the Room of Requirement. He couldn’t escape._

_It seemed as if the walls of the Room of Requirement were crashing down on him, closing in on him. The fire was too close, too hot._

_He saw faces in the flames, faces of the ones he had lost, of the ones he couldn’t save. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dobby, Colin, Dumbledore, Snape… They were all there, drowning in the fire. Because he couldn’t save them. Because he had failed them._

_He had failed them._

_He had failed._

_The flames were closer to now, it would be easier to just let them take him. Let the fire consume him as it did his friends and family. He had failed them, he might as well die with them._

Harry woke with a start, and threw of the too-warm covers of his bed. He was damp with sweat and he could still feel the heat of the flames licking at his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual and staggered out of his room. He turned down the hall to the bathroom, turned the shower to as cold as he could stand it, and tried to wash away the feeling of ash on his flesh.

Once the feeling of flames finally subsided Harry turned off the water and got out of the shower. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced, dark purple bruises shadowed his eyes, his dark skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, and his face looked gaunt. Looking down at his body the frown on his face deepened, his ribs showed through his chest, his hip bones stood out more; how long had it been since he had really eaten? Sure he ate whenever his friends were around, but that was more for show, and he ate when he was at the Burrow, but it had been a while since he had last gone to a Weasley supper. No wonder Hermione and Ron were usually making him eat with them, Harry didn’t look healthy. 

Granted, Harry knew he had never been a really healthy weight. Years of being punished by being shut away with no food at the Dursley’s made it so he had never put on the weight he should have. Sure he put on weight during the Hogwarts school year, but even then he had been trying to fight for his life, and during the summer holidays he would go right back to being all but starved. How he looked now though… with his bones sticking out too much and the hollows of his body too hollow… He turned away from the mirror and wrapped a towel around himself. 

Once back in the safety of his room Harry pulled on some loose sweatpants and a baggy shirt, they dwarfed his small frame, but they also hid how skinny he actually was. Once he was content that he covered enough to hid his malnourished body to his friends, he ventured out of his room and down into the kitchen.

There was no sound coming from the kitchen, nor from the living room. Harry furrowed his brow, Ron and Hermione always told Harry if they were going out. With one last cursory look around the downstairs and no response, Harry started to feel the anxiety creep up on him.

“Kreacher?” Harry jumped slightly when the elderly house elf popped into existence in front of him.

“Yes Master Harry? What can Kreacher be doing for you?” Kreacher bowed low, his droopy ears brushing against the floor.

“Where are Ron and Hermione? Have they come downstairs yet?” 

“Master Weasley and Mistress Granger be gone to Master Weasley’s home. They be telling Kreacher to be making sure that Master Harry is being well before they return. They went on and on and telling Kreacher that they will not be taking long and that they will be doing a talking to to Master Harry when they be returning.” The old house elf bowed low again.

Harry’s brow furrowed again, why had Ron and Hermione gone back to the Burrow? It wasn’t Sunday which was when Molly held the Weasley dinner. Or was it? “Kreacher, what day is it?” 

“It is being Wednesday, Master Harry.”

Harry nodded absentmindedly, so it definitely wasn’t Sunday. Harry cast a wandless Tempus charm and noted that it was just a little past noon. “Lunch is waiting for Master Harry in the kitchen if he be wanting it.” With that last remark, Kreacher disappeared with another loud pop.

Harry’s stomach clenched at the mention of food, whether from hunger or not he couldn’t tell. With a sigh he turned to the kitchen anyway, besides the occasional chip he had eaten at the pub last night, Harry had not eaten since lunch the day prior. He opened the door to the kitchen again and helped himself to one of the sandwiches that Kreacher had made. His eyes fell to the table again and he saw that the pile of presents still sat, unopened on it. He sighed and sat down, opening each one in turn.

From Charlie, he had gotten a nice pair of dragonhide boots, charmed to repel water as well as fire. Molly and Arthur had gotten him an old Muggle radio which was spelled to work even with magic surrounding it. Bill and Fleur had gotten him a book of the top most common curses and their counter-curses; Bill was trying to convince Harry to join him and become a curse-breaker. Andromeda had given him a framed picture of himself and Teddy, the small boy looked up in the charmed photo and grabbed at Harry with small fingers. Luna had gotten him a book about the rarest and most elusive magical creatures and, supposedly, on where to find them. Ron had gotten him a pair of Chudley Cannons boxer shorts as a joke. And finally, Hermione had gotten him a charm book full of different Disillusionment Charms. 

Looking at the pile of gifts that his friends and family had gotten him, Harry couldn’t help but smile. They all wanted what was best for him, and they wanted him to be happy. So why couldn’t he be happy for them? They expected nothing from him, he had done so much in his 18 years, all they wanted was for him to be happy. But he couldn’t even manage that.

. With a sigh, Harry pushed himself up from the table and made the trek back up to his room. The pile of presents hovering behind him with a flick of his wand. He barely used the thing anymore, ever since he defeated Voldemort, using a wand felt to… Confining. He had all but mastered wandless magic; he kept the Holly wand with him so when he did venture out into the public, the media didn’t stir up any nonsense. 

Just as he had re-entered his room and set the pile on his bed, he heard the floo roar to life and heard the faint sound of Ron and Hermione each stumble through. “Harry! We’re home!” For just a moment, Harry debated on whether or not he should go back downstairs and have that “talking to” that Kreacher said was coming. Feeling guilt well up inside him for just thinking about not going talking to his, obviously concerned, friends Harry wend back downstairs.

“Hey Ron, ‘Mione.” Harry sat down on the couch not looking up, and fully expecting his friends to start talking to him immediately. What he did not expect was to see the entire Weasley clan and most of his friends all standing in his living room when he glanced up. “Er… Hi?”


End file.
